Pure and Simple

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Was the mantra throughout the Little Boy movie: a powerful
story of the love between a father and son set in WW II. A riveting film about mountain-moving faith
that will warm your heart and drive the dark of doubt away.

From the moment I stood at the concession stand to buy my
ticket, when the young man behind the counter asked, “Can I get you some
refreshments…” to his gift of kindness.

Me: I can’t afford popcorn here, it’s highway robbery.

Young Man: I’ll give it to you then. And he filled a large bag to the rim.

I leaned over and peered at his name tag. Julian.

Me: Thank you, Julian. God bless you for this. How can I
repay your kindness?

Julian: You can pray for me and my family. My brother is
being deployed to Iraq soon.

He didn’t go into detail, but I assume he is going to help
train Iraqi forces to fight ISIS.

It was a marvelous day from the moment I entered the theater
to the time I exited, filled with mountain-moving faith. Filled with wonder at
the power of belief. Little Boy made me want to conquer the world with love.
Julian made me want to pray for his brother and his family every day.

I believe Julian’s
brother will come home safe and sound, just as Little Boy believed his dad
would return. I believe that mustard
seed faith can move mountains - and I have a number of mountains I want to
move.

As Karen Blixen, author of Babette’s Feast and Other Anecdotes of
Destiny puts it:

“Through all the
world there goes one long cry from the heart of the artist:

Give me a chance to
do my best. “

Speaking of Babette’s Feast, while the work is
classified as a short story or novella, there is no shortage of meaning to be
found in Blixen’s masterpiece: a powerful and poignant tale about sacrifice, communion,
repentance, epiphany, and transformation.

I’ve heard it said that the
protagonist, Babette Hersant, is an archetype of Christ, for she so readily
sacrifices all that she has for those she is serving, and feeds not only their
bodies, but their souls (as all artists/writers must do).

Discovery
of Meaning

Not that Blixen, or any writer,
consciously sets out to weave in layers of meaning, but if the work comes from
a deeper place within, and isn’t just manufactured in the cerebral realm, it
will likely contain multiple layers of meaning.

Take, for instance, Stephen
King’s novella, “Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption,” from his story
collection, Different Seasons. Within
that one story runs concurrent themes: light overcomes darkness; perseverance
against all odds; loyalty and friendship; bold defiance of evil…

Finding beauty in the midst of
hell; hope springs eternal (which is the subtitle), and the list could go on.
Therein lies the difference between mediocrity and art. If the work nourishes
the reader’s soul, it has served its purpose.

And if you are to serve your
purpose as artist (or saint), take your time. Let the work have space to
incubate and fully develop, as a child matures in the womb. As a garden
produces ripe fruit in its time.

Having begun with the words of Merton, I’ll
end there too. “People are in a hurry to magnify themselves by imitating what
is popular – and too lazy to think of anything better.”

What
lies within you?

What are your top three most
inspiring stories or films, the ones that held the most transformative power
for you? Take a moment to ponder why these stories moved you.

Then, choose just one of these
(your # 1), and explain why it stirred or awakened you. Whatever you see there is
only a mirror of what is already within you, waiting to be unveiled in some
shape or form.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

As I was
pondering this contest, I was overwhelmed with the number of things I could say
on the subject. A mountain of thoughts surfaced, obscuring clarity. And so I waited until some clear shape rose
above the peaks. Finally the full moon emerged.

Like the
moon, I went through at least four phases as a writer, each one with elements
of doubt.

I’ve known I
wanted to be a writer since 3rd grade, when I copied an entire book
verbatim, turned it in to my teacher and said, “Look what I wrote!” Her
response: “You wrote this?”

And I was
like, can’t you tell that’s my handwriting? You ought to recognize it by now as
many times as you’ve made me write, “I must not talk in school.”

Back then I
yearned to say something, but didn’t have anything of my own to say. I had
little or no light to reflect, like the new moon.

The Waxing Moon

But over
time more light emerges. The lunar sliver
begins to reveal itself. This is the
phase where I began to develop my own thoughts little by little, and so I spent
a good bit of time licking stamps and sending my work out into the universe. With every rejection, doubt increased. But
with every acceptance, doubt diminished.

One day I
received an invitation to speak at an upcoming conference called Women Writers: Making the Difference,
sponsored by the NC Literary and Historical Association. I was a sliver of crescent among a sky of
full moons shining in all their glory.

Maya Angelou, keynoter, owned the
auditorium when she stood to speak. A
hush fell over the place as she captured us with her story. She was a bright
harvest moon.

It was a defining
moment for me, seeing that glow and recognizing something of myself in
her. Realizing that we writers, if true
to our call, will overcome our doubts and surmount our obstacles, somehow or
another.

First Quarter

During first quarter, ½ of the
moon is visible for half the evening, then goes down, leaving the sky dark.

After my
literary writing stint, I teamed up with my musician husband and went into the
songwriting business. We wrote, recorded, hit the road, and performed our music
wherever doors were open.

One
September we were called to minister at Aqueduct Conference Center with the
Ragamuffin himself, Brennan Manning. That’s when I heard the clear call to go within and find what
compelled me to write.

“Then one
day, just like that” (to quote Forest Gump), I told our agent I needed a
break. I needed space. I needed solitude
and quiet. That’s when he and his wife left the house (almost in a huff), never
to return. And my songwriting career came to a grinding halt. Just like
that.

The Waxing Gibbous (contemplative
phase)

I never
doubted the call to write. Whoever sits down and writes is a writer, good, bad, or ugly. Poor or rich. Unknown, little
known, or well known. But the writers
who truly have something to say are those who have heeded Rilke’s advice:

“You
are looking outward, and that above all you should not do now…There is only one
single way. Go into yourself… and see what compels you to write.”

It’s one
thing to have something to say. It’s
quite another to have to say something.
It was in the contemplative phase – which became more than a phase; it became a
lifestyle – that I began overcoming writerly doubts in earnest because I was
finally asking myself the important questions:

“What is it
that you must write? What were you called to write? What were you born to write?”

The Full Moon

Writer’s
doubt faded like a pair of old jeans when I stopped comparing myself with
writers who’d “made it…” Because what
did true success mean anyway? I had to
redefine what success meant and what it didn’t mean. It didn’t mean that I should write for the
market. It didn’t mean that I should emulate the voices of others who’d made
it. It didn’t mean I’d ever make a fortune.

What it did
mean is that I told my particular truth, just as those I admired most had
done. And though I never compared myself
with Maya Angelou or Brennan Manning or Frank McCourt, I came to realize from
reading their words that we’ve all stumbled in the dark and fallen flat on our
faces.

They were
successful only because their themes were universal, even if their stories were
unique. They never told me the moon was shining, but I could clearly see “the
glint of light on broken glass” - in the context of broken vessels.

We’re all familiar
with pain and rejection, disappointment and despair, and sometimes abject
poverty. We’ve all suffered and bled and
died a thousand little deaths. And lived to tell about it. So that others could feel and share in our grief
and joy, could laugh and cry with us and feel less alone in this world.

Monday, July 22, 2013

As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to
my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still
be in prison. ~ Nelson Mandela

Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and then waiting
for the rat to die. ~ Anne Lamott

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the
prisoner was you. ~ Lewis B. Smedes

In the bible it says you have to forgive seventy times
seven. I want you to know, I’m keeping a chart.
~Hillary Rodham Clinton

Okay, so you get the picture. Forgiveness. That’s what I’m
talking about. Because unforgiveness is
a burden too big to bear. Ask Corrie Ten
Boom. Ask Coretta Scott King, who said
that hate injures the hater more than the hated.

Sue Monk Kidd stated, “People in general would rather die
than forgive. It’s THAT hard. If God said in plain language, ‘I’m giving you a
choice: forgive or die,’ a lot of people would go ahead and order their
coffin.”

How it’s done

Deanne told me a story about her
estranged father, how he’d never paid her any mind, never remembered her
birthday, never gave her Christmas gifts or the time of day.

“I decided that I’d have to be the
one who reached out to him, and if he never reciprocated, so be it. I began
sending him cards on his birthday and calling during the holidays, and just
checking in every so often. I’m okay with the one-sided relationship because at
least I know I’ve done my part.”

She told me her story exactly when I
needed to hear it most. When someone I
deeply loved had wounded me so much that I was losing sleep. And so I took her lead and began reaching out
to that person. Then I wrote the whole painful story as fiction. That’s
what you do when you have to “tell the truth but tell it slant.”

Your turn

Now I want to hear from you.
Tell me about your experience with forgiveness – or the lack thereof
should that be the case. Throw off the
albatross and move on. Release it on paper now. That’s how the healing
begins.

It doesn’t have to be major league drama. Nothing is too
petty. Maybe you remember when your sister chopped off your favorite doll’s
beautiful hair. Or your brother swiped your pack of Juicy Fruit gum and chewed
every last stick.

Or maybe it IS high drama.
Maybe your wicked stepmother stole your inheritance from you and left
you penniless and homeless. Maybe your neighbor hated your barking border
collie, so he turned him out of the pen while you were gone to the store one
day and Falstaff has never been seen again.

And don’t forget to forgive yourself for that stupid thing
you did. If only you hadn’t taken the
shotgun and blown the skylight to smithereens when your husband didn’t get
around to repairing the leak…

If only you hadn’t told your dear friend that her new job as
a census worker wasn’t exactly the most respected position in the world…

Write your story in any POV you like, as prose or poetry,
fiction or nonfiction. It matters not.
Go!

Monday, November 5, 2012

“My real writing is the stuff I do that takes my
deepest energy, that requires me to slide into that space where everything else
falls away. I picture the space where I
do my real writing as a quiet forest glen where there is sound but nothing I
need to attend to, nothing that calls forth my intervention. It is serene, secluded,
and I am alone there.” ~ Andrea Cumbo

From what I’m hearing, other writers are struggling
to juggle their blogging with their ‘real’ writing. Unknown Jim says his writing
has been misplaced and it’s time for things to change.

His aim is to focus on fiction instead of spending
so much time on social networking. He says, “It’s time to write what you REALLY
want to write about…It might mean blogging less to just blog better…or writing
an ebook, poem, or short story…”

Or memoirs and magazine
articles, which I must return to front burners and bring to full steam once
again. This is why I’m taking a blogging sabbatical for the next several weeks
- although I do hope to drop by and visit my friends on occasion.

In an earlier post, The
Music Within, I quoted Brian Doyle’s reasons for writing. These words bear
repeating here, mainly to remind myself of why I write.

“Because like all human
beings I have an innate drive to leave something shapely and permanent behind
me, some marker or passage through the woods…I’d like to leave several books
behind me so that someday my children will open and read them and think maybe
the old man had a fastball for awhile there.”

In Utterances of an
Overcrowded Mind, Paul Dorset says that 97% of writers don’t finish their book.
I’m in the 3% who have finished one, but little good that did since I placed it
in a closet and forgot about it long ago. But that’s not the one demanding my
attention right now anyway. It’s the memoirs I want my children to read.

What about you? How are you expending your writing energy,
and do you also feel the need to redirect your focus? Is blogging your chief
venue, or do you have other WIP that need attention like some of us?

If I had a penny for every cliché I’ve read or used
I’d be filthy rich. So would William Metz, who once said, “What’s a young
writer to do? Perhaps he can’t recognize the clichés because they are so much a
part of his daily language. He is, to be sure, between the devil and the deep
blue sea… he must learn to nip in the bud the trite phrase, the overused word.”

The funniest article I’ve read on the subject is
Richard Bang’s “Avoid Clichés like the Plague,” where he confesses to being
guilty as sin of having committed the worst literary crimes known to man when
he authored travel brochures and used such phrases as “come to know the exotic flora,
fauna, and people…” He even called the Blue Nile “The Mount Everest of Rivers.”

OMG, that article just cracked me up! His advice is this: “If you absolutely can’t
resist writing ‘lush’ before ‘forest,’ or ‘hearty’ before ‘breakfast,’ or
‘cascading’ before ‘waterfall,’ keep practicing until you can resist.”

On passé sayings… does anybody remember being up the
creek without a paddle…that today is the first day of the rest of your
life…that it takes one to know one…that if you build the field they’ll
come…that spring is God’s way of saying ‘hello’…

Have you ever known someone whose ass was
grass...who fell out of the ugly tree and hit all the branches on the way
down…whose dog didn’t hunt…who made like a banana and split… who wasn’t the
sharpest tool in the shed (or pencil in the box)?

On to current lingo… it is what it is…at the end of
the day… shoot for the moon; even if you miss you’ll be among the stars…an aha
moment…a light bulb moment…too much on my plate… on steroids… my bad…do what
you love and the money will follow…the only constant is change…speak of the
devil…

Today I’m totally happy to announce a free-for-all
cliché day. In the comments leave your favorites, old or new. While. You. Have. The. Chance. - btw, memes
and idioms are fair game too. Whatever. And have more fun than a barrel of
monkeys!

Monday, October 1, 2012

Today my students and I are writing on the word ‘ostracize.’
I’ll go first.

I’ve always had a heart for the outcasts, the underdogs,
the ugly ducklings. When I was growing up there was a boy in our church named
Harold, a loner who was tall and lanky as Ichabod Crane. His face was so
pockmarked that the other kids said it had more holes than a golf course.

One day I saw him sitting at the end of a pew all by
himself and wondered if I should go sit beside him… but I didn’t really want to
go that far, I mean, what would people think?

So I came up with another plan to inform him that someone knew he existed. I pulled a
stick of Spearmint Gum from my prized pack, marched straight down the aisle to
where he sat, and held it out to him. How embarrassing when he shook his head ‘no,’
he didn’t want it.

Fast forward 10 years
to the school pariah at ENCSD where I taught P.E. Cassie was so obese that all
the other children made fun of her.She
waddled when she walked and was clumsy and inept at sports and most everything
else she attempted.

No one gave her the time of day. Whenever we
played competitive games like kick ball or held relay races, none of the team
captains chose her. She was left standing alone while all the others stood
together on their individual teams, gearing up for the fun.

And so I made Cassie my official pet and assigned her the role of captain so
she’d get to choose team members instead of being automatically swept to the
sideline. When we lined up to go back inside the building I placed her in front
of the others and said, “Follow Cassie, the leader.”

This psychology
actually works. Children are not oblivious to the treatment others receive, and they
tend to follow suit when another is
well esteemed. When they were with me on the playground the other kids began showing
respect for Cassie, and eventually stopped poking fun and ridiculing her
altogether.

***

Then
there was the Christian blog group that ostracized me because, apparently, only
pontificating was tolerable, and if you didn’t preach to the choir they didn’t
want you. Their motto seemed to be, “You tell me what I know and I’ll tell you
what you know.”

About Me

Pure and simple reflects my journey through life, and my family’s journey. My work has appeared in numerous publications across the U.S. and Canada. I have written and recorded a collection of songs: Glowing in the Dark; completed a novel, Broken Angels; and I’m currently in the final stages of a manuscript about our life learning adventures. Once I read a proverb, “Life is a school. Why not try taking the curriculum?” And this is what I write about. In the words of a great writer and thinker, John Gatto Taylor:
"Whatever an education is, it should make you a unique individual, not a conformist; it should furnish you with an original spirit with which to tackle the big challenges; it should allow you to find values which will be your road map through life; it should make you spiritually rich, a person who loves whatever you are doing, wherever you are, whomever you are with; it should teach you what is important, how to live and how to die." These are the things I write about.